


Evasion

by KittyFartingBubbles



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Touch Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-03 02:52:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6593800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyFartingBubbles/pseuds/KittyFartingBubbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He is a pro by now, avoiding any touch, hug, nudge, that comes his way. He has to or his mind will be overthrown by thoughts that are not is own, by words and actions that belong to those who touch him. Mark is a genius, a master of evasion, or at least he was, until Jackson Wang appeared.</p><p>Or</p><p>The one where Mark can hear the thoughts of those who touch him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Evasion

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted on Asianfanfics

  
_Why is it always me_ , is the thought flooding Mark's mind, when his body slams down on the floor, the force behind the impact expelling all air from his lungs.  He should get up from the floor, run away the fastest he could, because a hand is reaching to pull him up, and that is exactly what he wanted to avoid. It serves him right though, for not getting up right after.

 

Mark looks at the hand, the slender fingers wriggling as if telling him to hurry up and take it, if only the warnings ringing in his head would vanish, the _do not touch_ , pounding against his skull, telling him to ignore the hand. He does the opposite of it,  he reaches his own hesitant, trembling fingers and allows the guy to grasp his hand and push him to his feet.

 

Around him, everything seems to stop, and for a moment Mark closes his eyes, wishing he hadn't accepted the helping hand. The onslaught of information that smacks him right in the gut leaves him breathless all over again, for a second he contemplates taking off, hide in some corner and try to makes sense of all the foreign feelings that possessed his mind, he would do that, but the guy's hand is around his wrist and even if Mark is having a hard time to think, it seems he can't shake the others grip.

 

He lets out a whine, a low sound that sips through his teeth, one of almost misery, he feels caged, with nowhere to turn, and what should he do? He tried to get the hand to let him go again, because he can't, _make it stop please_ , it hurts. Too much information, too much of everything, his head is about to explode with all the new thoughts and ideas running in circles on his head.

 

Laughs, cries, yells, he takes a deep breath when he feels the bones of his right leg broke, the sharp pain that travels through his entire knee, the weight of the cast. Mark runs his fingers, slightly, over his leg just to be sure it's not broken, that those were not his memories. The happiness though, that is a constant in this guy's life, the warm ball of sunshine that settles in his chest is more then enough to make Mark want to know more.

 

Mark glances over, the other is smiling, eyebrows lifting in a question, and he finally lets go of Mark's hand, with a soft brush on his inner wrist. The dull headache vanishes in a blink of an eye, the lukewarm feeling leaving a gaping want behind on his chest. Around him people are going back to their routines, and someone to his right touches his bare shoulder making him flinch away, the thrilled excitement of something mixed with joy reminds him of what he just went through.

 

Mark wants to touch him again, to find out more. He's still staring, he seems intrigued, it's hard to tell, Mark doesn't know the other. The few seconds they had to touch were not enough to read to everything in the others mind. Out of nowhere a hand comes resting on his shoulders, an already known touch settling gently on him and he can read the question's on the others mind, _curiosity_ , _confusion_ , Jinyoung is such a worrier.

 

"Mark, you okay?"

 

He nods, a small movement of his head, the guy that helped him is still there, looking at him, and for a second, Mark reaches a hand, wanting to touch him again, only for Jinyoung to grab his wrist, a heavy frown settling in his handsome face, and Mark recoils at the touch. Mark just wants to get to know the stranger, why is that so wrong. Jinyoung his pulling him away, mumbling under his breath about _idiots_ , and the guy stands there, just standing, still looking at Mark.

.  
.

There are moments when Mark is reaching out to touch someone, when his fingers are fluttering with intent, that he thinks how wrong it is. To touch someone and be able to know every damn though and idea, to pry in such a way is not right, reading someone's private thoughts without permission is too big of an intrusion. So Mark keeps to himself, only a handful of people knowing what he is capable of.

 

Mark is in the park, books and pens scattered around him, a pink highlighter in one hand, hair messy and frowning slightly at the book on his knees. He is so tired, too much work and an infinity of thoughts on his head. Music helps, it makes sense actually, fighting noise against noise it usually works. But he as this essay due in two days and only half of it is done, and Mark takes proud on being a good student, _sometimes, that is_.

 

He is so overwhelmed, so sick and tired of the heaviness in his mind, how hard it is to just think by his own words, sometimes it is so hard to find himself in the middle of all the stuff in his head. Other times he gets lost, without knowing where is the start and where is the end, needing someone to guide him back and understanding that there is no one around to do that.

 

He sighs, passing a hand on his already messy hand and looks up, startling to find warm dark eyes looking at him intently. The other smiles and Mark remembers how his hand felt so safe and secure.

 

"I'm Jackson," he says with a bigger smile. "Lets be friends, Mark."

 

Jackson huffs a small laugh, eyes quickly flickering to Mark before they turn their attention back to his own notes. And fuck, Mark never had a chance against Jackson, he was hooked at the first touch.

.  
.

"Are you cold?"

 

Mark was fallowing the movie in the TV with such intensity, that it took a few moments for the words to register. His eyes widen in shock and for a second his hands tremble, afraid of what Jackson meant with that.

 

He thinks about how his mother and father used to always make sure Mark was covered from head to toe. How wearing long sleeves had been a constant in his life no matter how hot it was outside, how hard it was to break the habit and how Jinyoung had fought so hard for him to show some skin. Above all Mark understood how vicious the world is, what they could do to someone like him.

 

It became habit. A habit that made him check over and over again to make sure that his sleeves were rolled down and buttoned, that he was covered and would not accidentally touch someone and get to know that people bank account number. It was rare the moments a hand would brush on his skin and the touch would linger for more then a few seconds.  

 

Then Jackson's hand is moving down his arm, over his hoodie, pausing at his elbow to nudge him and Mark as to resist the urge to take Jackson's hand on his. Mark's promised himself and Jinyoung that he'll take things slow, with caution. Because when he was near his parents, they always keep an eye on his hands, the careful monitoring they kept of his touches, to make sure he was nowhere near them. Not because they didn't love him, but because thoughts sometimes are private.

 

Mark knew that. He understood that, but he could not help it but resent it. With his few friends he can be himself, he can touch Jinyoung as much as he wants, but with Jackson is different, he is worried. He is afraid of seeing Jackson looking at him with attentive eyes, making sure he is covered, like they are living in a permanent snow covered place and Mark is indeed cold.

 

So Mark nods, and Jackson inches closer to him, _slowly_.

.  
.

Jackson hand is coming up to cup Mark’s cheek, in the last moment Mark moves out of the way, and Jackson apologizes quietly, but still manages to bring Mark closer to the light so he can see better.

 

"It’s a black eye, Jackson" Mark shrugs slightly. "Not the first or the last time it will happen."

 

"Does it hurt a lot?" Jackson asks, his eyes fixed on the bruise.

 

He denies it quietly, because he could receive much worse, a black eye it's nothing, really. It's the payment he receives for putting his nose where he shouldn't. Or better yet his hands.

 

"Oh, I thought it did, you moved so fast out of the way" Jackson tells him, but before Mark can answer, he gently presses his lips against Mark’s cheek.

 

Mark leans into the touch slightly, the worry and sadness of Jackson's thoughts travel around his head at a fast speed, making his stomach jump with eagerness, because Jackson is touching him and Mark forgot how good it felt, how gentle Jackson's touch is, how his thoughts are bundled in a net of safety and care, how easy it becomes the more he touches a person, almost like his brain recognizes it and accepts it like his own ideas, when in reality they aren't.

.  
.

It's when Jackson brings him coffee one morning, both sitting in Mark's bed, warming their hands on the hot beverage that he finally decides it's about time to spill the beans to Jackson. He sighs, trying to find a good way to let Jackson know that, _hey if I touch I can read your thoughts, not just that really, I can also see your memories_!

 

"Are you going to stay there looking at me forever or are you going to say whatever it is you want to say?"

 

"Hey, if I touch you I can read your thoughts, not just that really, I can also see your memories?" Mark mumbles to his coffee cup. "I know it's wrong, okay, it's private, but I can't control. It's probably better if you don't touch me."

 

"Huh, Mark," Jackson mumbles, reaching a hand to Mark, slowly, carefully, like Mark is a scared animal. Which might be true, Mark is definitely scared to death. "Jinyoung let it slip."

 

Mark recoiled his hand on the last second, Jackson stays with his stretched, clasping nothing but air, they were almost touching, but Mark is on fire. "What?" He asks just to be sure.

 

"Jinyoung threaten me, like he almost punched me actually and it kind of slipped."

 

"You knew?"  

 

Jackson looks Mark steadily in the eyes and reaches his hand again, offering it to Mark, with a soft smile. Mark reaches forward, running his fingers over Jackson's palm, like a test. When Jackson doesn't pull back he intertwines their fingers together, relishing in Jackson's mind, so eager and full of happiness, ready to accept Mark for what he is, no hint of fear or disgust there.

 

 Mark tilts his head ready to catch Jackson's lips in a kiss, the other follows pliantly.

 

Until the door opens with a swing, and Jinyoung gasps out a loud, "I knew it!"

 

Mark and Jackson break apart, Mark slapping a hand over his forehead as Jackson groans at the sight of Jinyoung.

 

"For fuck’s sake, Jinyoung!" Jackson hisses, closing the door in his face.

 

"I knew it!" Jinyoung repeats for the other side of the door, and Mark can hear the smugness in his voice, he forgets all about it though, when Jackson leans and plants a small kiss on his lips.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy it, let me know your thoughts :)


End file.
